At the blade's edge,
Blood stains it red.
Life ebbs and flows,
Leaving behind the silent dead.
The gates of hell yawn wide,
Where light flees to hide.
The path to peace is narrow,
Strewn with shards of sorrow.
Slipping through the soul,
Drifting, a spirit lost and cold.
In echoes of a vanished age,
Who holds the key to the forgotten cage?
Piano whispers far and wide,
To ears unhearing, deaf inside.
Drums pulse with fervent might,
Summoning the bound shepherd to light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem